


Mushrooms and happiness

by Croissant (mimillekoishi)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Deaf!Anya, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hairdresser!Roan, Lexa speaks french, Single mom!Clarke, Slow Burn, angst fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6746605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimillekoishi/pseuds/Croissant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa is back in America from where she ran away eight years ago.</p><p>Or : I couldn't find a non spoilery summary or a cool thing to say. Just... you know, give it a try</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue : Clarke

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone ! Here is the beginning of what I fear will be a long bumpy ride !
> 
> I would like to apologize in advance for my irregular updates. I am working on others fanfics that are my priority. I will try to update at least once every two weeks but I can't promise anything.
> 
> That being said, I have never put so much efforts and heart into a work before and I would be eternally grateful if you could forgive me, my update schedule and take the time to leave a kudo or a comment, positive or not.
> 
> I hope you will enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> ;)

**-Clarke-**

 

  
I don't know why but as I watch Frederick gnaw on some carrot shaped biscuit in its cage, I remember that day an eternity ago when my parents took the four of us to have a picnic in the field, near the cottage we always went to for holidays. I was small, maybe five at most but I remember every detail. This image is so deepply burnt in my brain I wouldn't be surprised if people found it engraved inside my skull after my death. If I had to explain I'd say that it's like a painting in a museum.

  
We're frozen in time but I can hear the wind and the water and the dogs barking in the distance. The six of us are sitting on an old, ugly tablecloth that I'm sure is still lying somewhere in the old house, eaten by moths and other insects doing their job of erasing what once was. We're at the foot of an oak so large it needs at least three pair of arms to circle it. It is summer and the sky is clear from even the finest layer of cloud. A little stream of clear water runs a few meters away, its calm lapping and the breeze gently waving the wheat, helping with the heat of the day. We're eating sandwich and laughing at one of dad's bad jokes while looking at my mother, watching with mischievous delight the way her blood creeps up her neck to her cheeks.

  
_We look happy_ I think. _We were always happy_ I remember.

 

  
“For fuck's sake Clarke, what are you doing here?” my friend and colleague Raven asks, efficiently and as always, dragging me out of my thoughts.

  
“What do you mean?”

  
“You left the lab an hour ago telling me you were going home and I find you here, staring at a rat,” she takes a closer look at the cage on the counter in front of me “and a sleeping rat at that!”

  
“Oh.” I say simply as I look at myself and realise that I'm in my casual clothes with my bag in hand, my coat on my folded arm, standing there doing nothing.

  
“Man you're really out of it today...” she frowns at me in a mix of concern and what I identify as friendly despair “Want me to drive you home?”

  
I throw a last look to the albino rat that Raven's tantrum woke up before exiting the room “I live fifteen minutes away from here, I think I can walk.”

  
She steps in front of me and puts a hand on my shoulder “You sure you're okay?”

  
I sigh “Yes. I didn't sleep last night that’s all.”

  
“Just like that?”

  
I want to tell her not to worry, that I'm good but I used these too much in the past for my words to sound true now. Instead I smile “Yep, just like that. No idea why to be honest. Maybe it was a full moon.” the 'moon' thing is a joke but the rest is true, I am clueless as to why I haven't slept last night nor what is the weird feeling that has been tugging at my insides for a few hours now, neither why I kept dozing off all day, diving into a distant past I thought long forgotten.

  
I know she just wants to help but that's the thing, there is nothing left to help anymore and I wish she could see it.

  
“If you really want to be useful,” I tell her “you will let me walk home. My fat will be grateful.”

  
She snorts and rolls her eyes, finally stepping aside and leading the way out of the building “I think you're hot.” she says and I can't help the tingle in my hand that I know will meet a part of her the next time she opens her mouth “For a thirty year old mom that never do sports that is.” she adds after a few seconds of silence and I slap her shoulder in response. Or try. She dodges my hit and turns to face me so that I can admire her mocking tongue.

  
“Raven !” I shout at the annoying brunette “Come back here you little-”

  
She runs, I follow. The long, pristine corridors are empty at this hour, free for our childish footsteps to echo as much as they can. She reaches the heavy glass doors of this already sleeping aisle of the hospital first of course. She leans against the metallic bar that serves as a handle, barely panting while I am joining her, out of breath.  
“I won.” she states smugly and oh how I wish I had some strength left to beat that amazingly muscular ass of hers.

  
“You,” I manage to say between two heavy breaths “You, trained.” It doesn't make any sense but she knows what I mean, she knows it refers to her long weekly sessions of work out and fitness at the stadium or in a room full of what I consider being torture equipment. She laughs openly and I just growl because really it's not funny.

  
“Come on Clarke you could come with me sometimes, it'd be good for you.”

  
I huff “As if. I had. Time.”

  
She rolls her eyes and smiles before turning back and pushing the doors. She shakes it a few times, frowning “Shit I think we're locked inside...”

  
“No way!” I find some strength somewhere and throw myself at the door that... Opens wide. I have no idea how, I fall on my butt and when I raise my eyes, I see my friend, her arms around her waist, being the hyena jerk I more than once thought I would kill. Which I may really end up doing if she keeps laughing at me.

  
“Okay. Okay.” she says between two inelegant snorts “It was funny darling but you should go.” she extends a hand to pull me back on my feet. My rear hurts. I'm angry but I don't have the energy to fight back. Maybe it's time for a magnesium cure...

  
She picks up my coat and bag and puts them in my arms. Before I have the time to say anything, she kisses me on the cheek and smirks “Say hi to the man for me!” she shouts behind her as she returns where we came from.

  
It takes me a minute to understand why she mentioned Aden but when it hits me it's a slap on my face.

  
“Fuck.”

 

  
*    *    *

 

 

“Nice try mom.” my son says after I managed to skillfully open and close the door of our house in complete silence.

My shoulders fall and I sigh “What gave it away?”

He pauses his video game and turns back to me, standing awkwardly in our living room, bag and coat in a hand and shoes in the other “Fish waved its tail.”

  
_Fuck_. Goddamn dog is deaf and old only when it wants. At his name, the Great Dane gets up weakly and comes at me, smiling tiredly. I want to be angry at him for being such a traitor but who could be mad at that white furry drooling face? I put my shoes down and the rest of my luggage on the couch to pet him. When he decides he's had enough, he leaves my side and goes back on the couch under the window that he claimed as his six years ago.

  
“Grand-pa called. He said he found the tools you needed.”

  
“Great,” I say heartedly because it means dad managed to put his old bike back together in time for Aden's birthday next week. “What do you want to eat?” I go to the kitchen and start opening drawer after drawer, all empty.

  
As if by magic, the doorbell rings and I open. On my porch is a delivery guy smiling at me, tending me two pizzas. Aden shows up behind me and pays the guy. I take the pizzas, thank the man and close the door. When I turn back, the TV is off and my son is setting the table.

  
“Aden,” I put the pizzas on the table “come here.”

  
He drags his slippers, makes them clap on the tiled floor because he knows I hate that. He stops in front of me but his eyes are on the ground between us and I can't blame him.

  
“I'm sorry.” I say “I fell asleep at my desk. Raven woke me up.”

  
He sighs and stays silent and for a moment I can't breathe.

  
_He hates me._

  
But he looks up at me and smirks “Made any weapon out of plants today?”

  
I take him in my arms, stroke his hair. He hugs me back and squeezes tightly, burying his face in my chest. Silently, I thank him. “Maybe tomorrow,” I say, pulling back.  
We sit on our respective chairs “Maybe tomorrow,” he repeats with more hope than my words can carry.

  
“How was school?”

  
He shrugs “Usual,” each of us take a pizza and struggle with the boxes. Never understood why this pizzeria kept taping the hood and why we never think about cutting it with a knife. “Say, can I spend the day at Gus' tomorrow?”

  
“Sure. Just call me when-”

  
“When I get home, I know.” Home. The word stings.

  
“I'll come and get you in the evening.” he nods. When the tape finally loses its fight I remember the duty I pushed away for apparently way too long and add “After a necessary trip to the convenience store. You need anything ?”

  
He blushes slightly “A new textbook.”

“Already?” I almost shout “Isn't that the third this month ?”

  
“Well... I got inspired so the last one consumed itself fast.”

  
I sigh. I tried to convince him to use a computer to type his stories but he says he prefers paper and the pile of fictional worlds receptacles in his room keeps increasing in height. “Fine. Still can't read anything ?” He shakes his head “Bad boy !” I ruffle his hair “How dare you hide things from your mother huh ?” he laughs and vainly tries to push my hand off his golden locks but I only rub his scalp harder.

  
“Moooom !” he whines and I stop. I chuckle at his desperate attempts to put some order back on his head. I help him, running a hand through his hair a few times, managing to free his vision and somehow fix the mess I made.

  
“It grew too long.” I say.

  
“I can ask Ann to cut it tomorrow?”

  
“If she is not busy then yes but don't bother her. Tell her I'll pay her on Saturday as usual.”

  
He nods and eats a too big piece of pizza, spreading cheese all over his mouth and chin. I shake my head. This boy can't eat without painting his face with food. I'm about to take a bite of my own meal when our enormous beast of a dog snorts loudly, his drooling face a feet away from my shoulder. I look at him and he sits, serious, licking his chops with envy. I take one of Aden's abandoned crusts and hold it in the air between Fish and me. I'm too weak... “Stay,” I order and place the crust on his nose. I wait a moment with my finger raised to indicate that the order still holds, enjoying the way his grey eyes stare at the treat like it was the most marvelous thing in the world. Then I take down my hand and a second later the crust is being chewed on.

  
“You spoiling him.”

  
My son narrows his eyes and I grin “You jealous?”

  
He shrugs “I don't like crusts.”

 

  
*    *    * 

 

I sit Next to Aden for our daily post-dinner Netflix session and put an arm behind his head, on the couch's back. He leans into me a little and starts playing with the remote to find us something to watch. I make myself at ease and extend my legs, resting my heels on the coffee table because obviously that's what those are for right?

“Ghibli or Disney?”

  
He asks and the choice is difficult. It was Hosoda yesterday “Let's go for Disney.” I nod and leave him the choice of the movie. We both know them all by heart but it doesn't matter. Animated Tuesdays and Wednesdays have been a tradition in my family since the invention of the DVD player. Can't count the number of times I saw my dad's eyes watered watching Bambi...

  
I'm not really surprised when I look at the screen and see a more than familiar digital movie poster showing a weird looking blue animal and a little girl riding a wave on a surfboard. My eyes return to my son who is looking at me with those two blue irises I can't say no to. I shake my head with a smile “Alright.” he bounces and presses play. I shouldn't have followed my hormone induced brain's brilliant ideas and listened to The King's velvety voice sing love songs so often when I was pregnant with Aden. It gave him some very weird music tastes for his age and an almost worrying obsession for Lilo & Stitch. And ukulele. That ukulele that mom offered him for his birthday four years ago and he hasn’t spent a day without playing since.

  
After a moment I realise that my hand has left the couch's back to play with Aden's ear, something I used to do when he was a babe. My fingers gently caress, trace the curves and edges and I remember. Ask a mother what was the first thing she looked at on her baby, she will tell you 'eyes' or 'hands' or 'nose' or 'feet'. The first thing I checked on my son was his ears. My first words after a far too long suite of screams and cussing words I won't dare to say ever again, were 'Look at those! They are so tiny!'

  
Aden's ears weren't especially small but at least they weren't as big as mine when I was young. One day in primary school a kid picked up a fight. My knight in shining armor came to my rescue of course. She beat the crap out of him and he never ever bothered me again. What she didn't know was the reason why this fight happened in the first place. I couldn't tell her, because what hurt me hurt her too, especially those things.

  
Anyway, I had long wavy blond hair, blue eyes, graceful features, nobody had ever mocked any part of my body because I was what people called a cute kid. My teeth were in perfect order and aligned, my height was normal, my feet, even my fingernails were perfect. Or so I thought but this boy came at me with his two friends one day and asked me if I could fly. I had no idea what he meant until he called me Dumbo. It was nothing, It wasn't mean or anything but it made me selfconscious. After that I couldn't look at myself in a mirror without thinking that my ears were too big. In truth, they weren't that much and as I grew up they kind of stayed the way they were, making them a perfectly normal size now.

  
But it never took the thought out of my head though, the idea that I had too large ears as a child. My parents laughed at me when after only three months of pregnancy they surprised me praying for Aden's ears to be small. When the nurse put him in my arms all covered in blood and other fluids, wrapped in a blanket, my brain had only two thoughts in mind : 'Finally !' and 'How big are his ears ?'. I swear to god all the people that were there to support me laughed, leaving those poor nurses and doctor dumbfounded at this apparently private joke.

  
With time it became a habit. Touching his ears absent-mindedly whenever he was at arm reach. I do it less often now that he's older but sometimes it still escapes me.

  
A familiar voice from the past strangely pulls me back to present day, singing “Devil in disguise.” Something tightens in my chest and throat but despite my feelings and memories weighting each word I mouth the lyrics I know by heart. Aden notices and stands. He dances like Elvis, exaggerating his movements and I laugh.  
“You're the devil in disguise,” he rolls his shoulder “Oh yes you are,” and winks at me. I grin, that's my son!

  
I lean over and grab him by his waist, pull him on my lap. When my hands find his very ticklish sides, he starts giggling and squirming uncontrollably “I'll show you what a devil truly is Romeo!” I start pinching him everywhere until he's just a pleading mess in my arms.

“Mom! Mom! Please stop! I'll do the laundry!”

  
At his promise I release him, raising my arms in the air “You said it.”

  
He rolls his eyes and sighs heavily. When he plops back in his spot next to me though he grins and rests his head on my shoulder.

 

  
*    *    *

 

  
“Aden!” I scream from the kitchen “You're gonna be late!”

  
I hear some sleepy-bear like grunt and I count the seconds in my head. At thirty, I see him enter the kitchen in his Stitch pajamas, eyes closed and hair expressing its will to run away from his head in every direction it can. Blindly he manages to find his place at the table and sit. I shake my head. He's as good as waking up as his aunt. The bittersweet memory has me smiling and kiss the crown of his head when I put his bowl in front of him. He thanks me with another grunt and I leave him deal with his cereals on his own to take care of his bedroom.

  
As usual the closed electric shutters make it completely dark. I know better than to walk to the window without turning on the light. When the room comes alive I realise again how right I was. Scattered on the ground are notebooks, Stitch plushes of different sizes and his clothes from yesterday. I leave the notebooks where they are but pick up the clothes to throw them in his laundry basket. Then I open the shutters and breath in the still cold air of may. I make his bed and put the plushes back at its foot. These are his favourites but every night he kicks them out of bed. I told him to put them in a bag with all the others he has in his closet but he insists on having them close. Out of habit, I throw a look to the only stuffed animals he owns. They are secured between his pillow and the wall, where he can't attack them fall in his sleep. Those two are in a surprisingly good state for twelve year old baby gifts. I can't help but close the distance and adjust them, sitting them against the headboard.

  
“Mom, out.” is the grateful growl I receive, his first real words of the day.

  
“Sure. You brushed your teeth?” I ask mischievously, closing the window, perfectly knowing what's coming.

  
“Duh.” he says, taking me by the hand and pulling me outside before locking himself in his room. I can't help my amused snort at the behaviour he definitely learned from Ann.

  
Twenty minutes later we're on the street in front of the house, ready to part, him for a few hours of class and me well, another day trying to fix cancer with plants. Before we go though we say our goodbyes. He kisses me and like every morning I try not to think about how far I used to bend for his lips to reach my cheek.


	2. Prologue : Anya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " " : talked  
> * * : signed

I stir and stretch in the bed, pulling the covers down. I shiver as cold air grazes my bare chest, waking me up completely and reminding me where I am. My entire body is sore but that was the goal, and god knows how I scored with those two. I smirk as pleasant memories of last night – or earlier this morning, I'm not sure – come back to my mind. _V-Shaped_ was something and his girlfriend was quite bitchy but funny to play with. Really it has been a while since I didn't have such a good fuck. The cold has me shivering again and with a mental curse I sit up. I'm alone of course but it doesn't bother me. I look at the clock and read 11:27am. I rub the sleep and exhaustion off my eyes with the heels of my hands and start to prepare for dad's look.

 

I take a deep breath and get up, searching for my clothes. For some reason the simple idea of showering after someone I don't know disgusts me so I decide to bathe at home in MY bathroom, using MY soap and MY towels. Well more like my family's but still.

 

When I'm finished dressing up I look around for my purse. I take out my phone and see the notifications. Three missed calls? I expected worse. I put the device in my jacket's pocket and head to the door. I notice a post it on the wood saying : _Thanks for last night. That was fun. Travis & Angie._ Oh so that was their names. Not that I care about what I'll never speak or write though. I take the piece of paper and crumple it in a small ball. I aim for the dustbin and shoot.The projectile lands inside it effortlessly and I think _Yes!_ Today is a good day.

 

I take my time to get down the stairs and ready myself to face the person at the counter. I'm not scared, I'm not stressed, I have no apprehension but I know that, whoever they are, they'll get on my nerves. Finally I'm down and walking in the hall. I breathe calmly and force a smile. When I reach the counter the secretary has her attention focused on a computer screen hidden behind the high piece of furniture.

I see her lips and jaw move but her face is too down for me to understand. I knock on the counter for her to look up. She throws a quick glance at me, barely lifting her head and mumbles something again before returning to her screen. Anger is already bubbling in the pit of my stomach but I control it. I breathe and take a notepad and a pen out of my purse. I write down as little words as I can because if I don't go straight to the point I'll be disrespectful. Done with my scribbling I tear the page off the notepad and knock on the counter again. This time I know what she says when she stands to look at me : _What's your problem_. If her face is anything to go by, it's not said nicely. I'm tempted to just slap that bitch in the face with that damn notepad but again I keep cool. I lift the paper between our faces so that she can read.

 

And I see it. That face, that pity and forgiveness for pretty much everything I am in those unpleasant brown eyes. The color is different but the expression is the same than the last time I wrote those words for someone to read. She nods sympathetically and, while I know it's genuine and an almost universal reaction, I can't help that bitter feeling inside me. It's not her fault though so I try to relax. I take another piece of paper : _I'd like to pay. Room 16._

 

She nods once more, raising a finger to ask me to wait. I want to tell her that I can read on her lips but by the time I'm finished forming this thought, she is back in her seat, typing efficiently on her keyboard. An instant later she is standing again. She takes a post it and some ugly pen with hawaian flowers and “Elvis Presley” printed on it from her desk. She writes down the price and I reach for my purse. I pay in cash. She thanks me with a bow of her head and a smile. I'm about to leave without another look at the secretary when the flashy pen catches my eyes. I smirk and shake my head. I reach over the counter and take a post it, ignoring the strange look the woman throws me. I take the pen and write : _Good music tastes._

I turn around and walk to the exit, waving once over my shoulder without looking back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It's noon when I reach my porch. It's silly I know it but I still try. Who knows, maybe by some miracle, this time it'll work. I open the entry door as slowly as I can then close it behind me. I take off my heeled shoes and leave them on the mat. I look around and see nobody so rapidly I cross the living room, hoping to reach the stairs as fast as I can. I'm in the center of the room when something wet and smelly hits my cheek before falling on the ground, making me think of a dead fish.

I freeze entirely.

I am, of course, entirely grossed out by the disgusting thing that just got thrown at my face, but I can't move. If I don't turn around I can't see him and if I can't see him, I can't hear him. And convince myself that I don't want to hear him. That I don't want to face his disappointed blue eyes. That I don't want him to be mad.

 

I have to face him though so I turn around. I swallow hard as my eyes fall on his crossed arms then trail up to find his eyes. He raises an eyebrow at me and I sigh heavily, my shoulders slumping down.

*Sorry I didn't warn you,* I sign *it wasn't planned.*

He shakes his head but relaxes *Honey, you're 35. You are free to lead your life the way you want but I'd appreciate if you could think about telling me the next time you're not coming home.*

I release a breath and look down. I should have texted him. I know I should have but I was too angry at myself. And I wish he was too.

I grin sheepishly *It sucks being 35.* his eyes widen and he laughs hard.

*Wait 'til you have another life than yours to take care of. It's at least twice worse.*

*Yeah well to be honest I wouldn't say no to that.*

He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes before taking it back and signing *Give time to time.*

I sigh *I'm a weirdo. Weird people attract weirdos. And more often than you think, creepy weirdos...*

*You're not weird, you're just immune to one of human's most destructive weapons. At least I'm not afraid for you to be taken away by some guy's sweet but empty words.* he winks and my chest warms up. But then his features twist to show utter disgust and he steps back *As much as I enjoy father-daughter bonding Anya, if you're not in the shower in two minutes I'm putting you back on the street and locking the door.* I raise an eyebrow. It can't be that bad. I sniff tentatively at my clothes and scrunch my nose. *See ? Now hurry. Aden is eating with us today.*

 

I feel a large smile stretch my lips at the name of my favourite human in the world. I'm suddenly more than eager to wash my stupidity off myself but because the universe loves to upset me, when I take a step forward, my bare foot is not met by the warm wood of the parquet but some squishy and wet, cold material. A shudder courses under my skin from the very tip of my toes to the crown of my head. I look down and recognize the worn out sponge dad usually uses to wash the car.

I choke in disgust. If I didn't need a shower before, now I NEED one for sure.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I'm in my bedroom, in underwear, a towel on my head and rummaging in my closet to find the leather pants I'm sure are here when the game begins. Aden is a good kid, the best kid but he has the mischievousness of his aunt and can sometimes be a real pain in my ass.

 

It wasn't funny the first time. I think he was six when he realised for real that I couldn't hear him when he spoke. One day I was reading on the couch and I don't know what went through his mind but instead of running to me and say hi like he usually did when he came back home from school, he went to the kitchen with slow, careful steps. Intrigued by his unusual behavior, I turned around to look at my dad who shook his head. Aden came back from the kitchen with the yellow plastic stool – that he uses to reach the sink – a moment later and my eyes quickly went back to my book. Convinced I wasn't aware of his presence, he placed it behind me – clumsily bumping it in the back of the couch – and a moment later his little arms were wrapped tightly around my neck, almost choking me. I put my book aside and grabbed his arms, pulled him on my lap. He let me tickle him for a moment, changing him into a mess of powerful giggles before putting him back on his feet in front of me. *Did I scare you?* he signed and I just shook my head with a smirk.

*Did you really think you could scare me little man?*

He nodded *Since you can't hear.*

 

It broke something in me. His words brought me back years ago in middle school when his aunt's obsession was to wait for me to lower my guard only to jump on my back or put an ice block in my shirt. Once she managed to drop an octopus on my head, and the thing was alive and so fucking clingy it took minutes before my sister could take it off me. Of course a certain blonde was laughing hysterically, proud of her successful prank while my dad and Jake were just watching from their deckchair, beer in hand.

 

Aden wasn't his aunt though, neither were anybody else. She was just- I don't know why but she always managed to get me when even my own family couldn't. What surprised me though was how Aden had found the idea without her teaching him.

 

So out of thirst for his laugh or simple nostalgia – maybe also in desire of some indirect revenge against those damn Griffin genes – I let him try to surprise me whenever he could. He learnt quickly though that my entire body is my ears. I'm more sensitive to vibrations than the majority of people and a six year old is not exactly discreet enough to win against me. But it never stopped him. For six years now, jumping on me has been his way to greet me and today won't be any different.

 

And by “won't be any different” of course I mean that he will fail. Years of martial arts taught him to move silently but _I_ can hear his steps on the parquet of my room and when he's finally behind me, he freezes and I prepare myself. A moment later I feel him move again and I jump on the side, dodging his tackle. He lands head first into my closet and I can't help but laugh as he squirms to untangle himself from the dozen of shirts that fell over him. When his head finally emerges from the pile of clothes, his eyebrows are knit together in the most adorable way and I only laugh harder. Wrapped up in my laughter I don't realise he got out of my closet only to attack me again. He pushes me on my bed, knocking the air out of my lungs before jumping on my lap, and grabbing my wrists, pinning them to the bed at my sides.

He grins widely and mouths “I won.”

I laugh heartily and move my hands. He understands and releases my wrists.

*Well done, you got me this time.* I pat his cheek lightly *Now if you could get off me before dad finds us and gets the wrong impression...*

He stands and smirks like a wolf. I know he has something in mind that I won't like. *There's no way anyone could get the wrong impression,* he walks to the door and exiting my room he adds *You're way too old for me.* My jaw falls open at his new found insolence. I grab a pillow and throw it at him but he closes the door just in time. A second later, he cracks it open once more only to stick out his tongue and say “Missed !”

 

This kid will be the death of me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

*So what kind of cut do you want monster?* I ask Aden in the mirror in front of us before taking my scissors in a hand and comb in the other.

*Just shorter.*

I nod and start working. After a minute he signs *Mom was an hour and half late yesterday.*

It's a statement but it's so much more and I have to put my tools back on the counter.

*What happened?*

*She fell asleep apparently. After an hour I was starting to worry so I called Raven. Ten minutes later she called me back to tell me that mom was on her way. She found her staring at Frederick.*

I frown *Doing nothing ?*

He lowers his chin *Doing nothing. She said mom had been distracted all day and didn't sleep the night before.*

 

It has been a while since Clarke's last sleepless night and for a heavy sleeper like her, it says a lot. Or not. It could be nothing at all. It could be some weird equation that was on her mind or just something hormonal. Sometimes people don't sleep that's all. Or maybe... _No_. I shake my head. It's impossible. Nobody knows about that yet. But what if?

I don't want to worry the kid though so I just say *It's your birthday next week, maybe she forgot to buy you a present.*

He shakes his head but there's a smile at the corner of his lips that makes me relax *I know she's been plotting with grandpa.*

*Maybe her body wasn't tired. It happens you know.*

He shrugs but I know his worry is still there, just underneath and I hate that I feel powerless *Maybe.*

 

As I see how dark is the blue of his eyes I wonder when was the last time I told him that it would be alright and he believed me. When was the last time he cried and fell asleep in my arms, convinced that it'd be better when he woke up. When was the first time he called me at night because his mother wasn't coming home. When was the last time he asked for answers I truly believed I had.

 

I can't lie to my boy anymore and my own incertitude scares me *I don't know why she didn't sleep Aden, but I'll try to find out okay?*

He nods with a confident smile and my heart sinks deep because if I'm right then this sleepless night is only the first of many.

 

 

* * *

 

I clap in my hands to get dad and Aden's attention. They pause Mario Kart to look at me over their shoulders in the exact same fashion. The boy really inherited the weirdest habits of this family...

*I'm going out. When is your mom supposed to show up again?*

*I don't know. She said she'd go to the convenience store and would call before getting me home.*

_Crap._

I walk to the couch and kiss his forehead *See ya, monster.* I wink and he smiles.

*See you saturday.* he signs before sending me a kiss.

I just wave and exit the house, hoping he'll be gone when I come back.

 

I jump in my truck and take a deep breath. There shouldn't be butterflies in my stomach nor such a smile on my face. I know that the person I'll bring home means only problems but I can't help it. I thought that I could avoid that, this giddiness and excitement but it seems we've been apart too long for me to calm down. All kind of memories come back to me, good ones, bad ones, painful ones and their consequences and it's overwhelming.

I'm scared at what is about to start. I'm scared of the crossfire. I'm scared for my family but at the same time I want it so bad.

Suddenly I wonder if she will look the same than on skype, sound the same than when she writes to me, smell the same than the last time she took me in her arms. Warmth spread in my chest at the thought that it's not temporary like last time in France but something definitive, something sure, something strong. Oh I wonder if she got wrinkles...

Eventually I squeal, or so I think, and turn the key. It's hard to drive without speeding, hell it's hard to drive at all. I'm way too excited, way too happy and my heart won't stop beating.

I'm meeting Lexa for the first time in two years and I can't wait.

 


	3. Prologue : Lexa

It takes me a minute to get out of my slumber and realise that the song playing un my ears is not one I want to hear. I shut down Elvis and wonder why I haven't deleted this yet. I throw a quick look outside the window and see a city. The one that used to be mine and as anguished as I was to come back, there's something fluttering in my stomach. It's excitement and nostalgia. It's eagerness and happiness. It's something I never thought I'd feel again. The feeling dies as fast as it bloomed though because the voice in the speakers tells us to clip our belts.

 

I hate landings. It's one of those irrational fears that you can't fight no matter how many times you try. Today isn't different. As the monstruous machine prepares its descent I'm scared to the bone, my heart hammers in my chest and it is hard to keep my breath even.

“You ok?” someone asks, with a strong french accent, and I jump.

I take off my headphones and look at the person in the seat next to mine. An old lady to whom I had barely given any attention until now is looking at me with all the concern in the world.

“Yes.” I lie “I'm used to it.” I try to return her reassuring smile but my leg betrays me. I don't notice it's bouncing until the old lady calmly rests her hand on my knee. I swallow hard and drop the act “Thank you.”

She smiles at me one of those caring smiles only nice old people know how to show and I relax. “Good. My name is Bérénice Delastre. Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure shared, I'm Lexa Wilde.”

I see something light up in her striking blue eyes “Like the wine brand? Gustus' daughter?”

I crack a small smile. It's not every day a random someone knows about me “Yes. You know your subject. Wine amateur?” She laughs openly and I frown “What? I said something funny?”

“Oh no dear. I just can't believe I find you here.” My face must be expressing my deepening confusion because immediately she explains “I know your father, he's an old friend of mine. And I know you too, though the last time we met you were around three. Really what are the odds?”

 

I am dumbfounded to say the least. I have been sitting next to this woman for hours and I discover now that we're about to land that she is in fact some old family friend I never knew about. For the first time in my life I curse at my lack of social skills. She looks nice and I just ignored her all along, busying myself with work, a book or faked sleep. I mentally facepalm. I'm an idiot but that's not new.

“Yeah, that's some kind of coincidence. Feels like a movie scene.”

She smiles, appears to think for a second then asks “Do you believe in fate Lexa?”

Painful memories make their way back to the front of my mind but I push them away with a deep breath. “I used to. Do you?”

The lady smiles mischievously “What else could this meeting possibly be but an act of fate?”

 

I want to contradict her but the plane starts to tremble and Oh my god I think I'm gonna die.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

When my feet make contact with the airport floor I finally relax. The metallic giant is far behind me and I am safe on the ground. I let out what may be the longest, heaviest breath of my life and smile in delight.

“Feeling better?”

The lady is back next to me and I realise just how small she is. Or maybe not. As she looks up to smile at me like nothing is worth fearing in this world, as her nostalgic, reassuring warmth surrounds me she is bigger than anyone I've met. I smile earnestly “Much better. Do you need help to get your luggage?”

She shakes her head “This bag is the only one I have.”

“May I hold it for you then?”

“That would be very nice of you, dear. Thank you.” she smiles and it's a reward I'm proud to receive.

 

I take her bag and it is surprisingly light. Maybe it's a quick trip? Maybe she shipped the rest of her things like I did? I can't ask her though because my throat is too tight and my insides too alive, my heart beating too fast. We walk slowly in a comfortable silence until we reach the entry hall. I asked Anya to wait for me here but she's nowhere to be seen and worry replace the butterflies in my stomach.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don't see my sister.”

“Anya came to get you?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle despite my growing anxiety “You know her too of course.”

“I do. You were the most adorable pair of siblings I had ever seen. What is she doing now?”

“She works at a dojo.” I answer, unfocused, eyes searching in the crowd “Teaches martial arts to kids. Occasionally she helps our big brother at the hair salon.”

 

And suddenly I hear it. I hear my name. It is poorly articulated, barely recognisable and her voice is way too loud but it's my name. My lips stretch into a smile as I spot her in the crowd. She screams again, drawing attention but neither her nor me give a fuck about prying eyes right now. I put down the bags I'm carrying and we both close the distance hurriedly. When she's close enough she literally jumps on me, her arms wrapping around my neck. I take advantage of our height difference to heave her up.

“Essa!” she screams again but in my ear this time and I wince at the piercing sound. But I can't bring myself to tell her to shut up because I've waited too long to hear that awfully loud voice of hers again.

 

I squeeze her hard, breathe her in. She laughs in that clumsy, weird manner that has been hers for as long as I can remember and it feels good. It's been two years, too long since I've held her and my heart swells with the utter joy filling it. She gives my back a light tap and I reluctantly put her down.

She pulls back and I smile like an idiot “God Anya,” my hands find her cheeks and her bones seem more concrete in my palms than the last time I've touched her. I quickly pat her shoulders, her sides, her hips and ask in a breath “Have you lost weight?”

*I'll explain you later.* she signs, eyes on the ground before looking back at me with a smile *It's good to see you.*

I push my worry away for the moment and hug her again “Good to see you too.” I whisper against her shoulder.

 

Our embrace lasts for a long moment until Ann pokes my side. I pull back and frown. She nods and points to something behind me. I turn around and realise that Bérénice is still standing there with our bags at her feet. I smile appologetically and take my sister's hand. I lead her to the old lady and translate my words in signs as I speak “Ann, this is Bérénice. She is one of dad's friends from France. Madame, this is Anya, my big sister.”

To my surprise, Bérénice turns to Ann entirely and signs *Hello Anya, nice to meet you.*

My sister's eyebrows raise and she answers *Hi. Nice to meet you too.* it is almost shy and a light, pleased pink colors her cheeks.

The woman turns back to me “Unfortunately that's all I can say in sign.” she just says and laughs. Startled at first, we soon join her. I should've talked with her on the plane.

“Well, well, well. Seems like you're all having fun here.” a deep voice asks from behind “Can I join?”

 

Next to us stands a tall man around fifty, greyish hair and brown smiling eyes. Bérénice walks to him and he bends impossibly low to hug her.

“Lexa, Anya,” the lady turns to us “This is Richard, my eldest son. Richard this is Lexa and Anya, Gustus' daughters.”

“Really? Damn it's been so long! Nice to see you again.” he shakes my hand then Anya's “It is a pleasure ladies, really, but mom has an appointment.”

Bérénice rolls her eyes “No, _you_ took an appointment for me. I don't need it, I told you.”

“Come on mom,” he moves to take his mother's bag and then places a hand in her back “Please be reasonable. I'm sure those young ladies have activities to attend to.”

The man looks at me pleadingly and I decide to help “Yes we should go. Knowing dad, he's probably already worrying about us.”

The old woman sighs “Fine. But you should be ashamed to use other people against me young man.” she pokes her son's chest and turns back to us, extending her hand “Lexa, Anya, it was a delighting encounter.”

I take her hand “For us too madame.”

“Say hi to Gustus for me.”

“Sure will do.”

She turns to Ann *It was a pleasure.* my sister bows slightly with a smile. “Have a nice evening.” she adds with a wave as she takes her son's arm. The man inclines his head in respect before leading the way to the exit.

 

After a moment of comfortable silence I say “I felt like I was ten all over again.”

*Yeah, like when dad was taking us to some gala and everyone were like 'Look at them! They grew up so much!' when really we had no idea who they were.*

“Yeah.” I say in a sigh as memories of dad begging me to wear dresses come back and make me shudder *I didn't really like those parties.*

*Me neither. They were never talking to me directly, it annoyed me so much...*

I snort *Remember that time when there was this guy, son of God knows who, that was convinced you couldn't understand what he was saying? He was being condescending and talking about you like you were dumb.*

She smirks in response. I know she remembers. It was one of our best pranks.

*Yeah and I was totally reading on his lips. Then you hid under the table behind him and-*

"And you walked to him and you mouthed 'What were you saying about my hair? I think I didn't hear well.'"

*And you spoke for me. We were so in sync he sincerely believed it!* I laugh *God I wish you had seen their faces, daddy's son looked like he had shit his fancy pants.*

 

I take my bag and start to walk to the door, my eyes focused on Anya's hands and animated face, a smile stretching my lips.

 

 

* * *

 

As my sister finishes talking – more like using the 'reading' option of my phone to speak the words she writes – about her recent heartbreak, calling her ex all kind of names and expressions, I park my car in the alley of our frontyard. I turn off the ignition and sink in my seat. I can't believe I'm here.

 

The porch and windows are now a pristine white, mom's roses have gone wild and reach the roof, the flowers at the front of the house are dying and there's a swing hanging on the biggest branch of the cherry tree but besides that, nothing have changed. It's still the same house I've moved to when I turned three. It's still the same house holding most of my childhood memories.

A pang of pain hits me in the chest at the thought that a few streets away stands another house where the reason I left America eight years ago still lingers. I swallow hard as I feel my heart tightening. Anya notices and, with a finger, she lifts my chin and turn my head to the side. She smiles sadly and signs *Welcome home.*

 

I nod and breathe. I can do it. I've been preparing for this for months, years even. I can do it. I can go home without turning back, without suffering, without holding my breath and tears.

 

Full of some renewed confidence, I jump out of the car and walk. A few seconds later I'm climbing the three old stairs of the wooden porch in one easy hop. Then I'm facing a door, the door of my house, of my home that I haven't pushed open since- No. I shouldn't go there. I shake my head and awkwardly ring the bell. I hear movements inside and footsteps. I hold my breath.

“Yes?”

My mouth falls open in confused surprise. I was expecting my dad and I'm faced with a young boy, one I don't recognize. Son of a neighbour maybe? I don't have the time to ask anything though because a low, familiar voice calls from the living room “Who is it?”

“Dad?”

“Lexa?”

The boy steps out of the way and I rush inside, almost bumping into the man I was looking for. We look at each other in silence for a few seconds, eyes trying to look at everything at the same time and miserably failing before his strong arms reach out and wrap around my shoulders, heaving me up.

God I missed it. I missed his strong cologne, his wild mane of long black hair, his embrace suffocating me when I just know how delicate he can be.

“Dad. Stop. Squeezing. Too hard.” I manage between short breaths. He puts me down but keeps his large palms on my suddenly miniscule shoulders.

“Look at you.”

Blue eyes water and I have to roll mine to forget how much they sting “You softie.” I say, playfully punching his chest “We talked on skype not twenty four hours ago.”

“I can't hug skype.”

“Good point.” I say with a smirk before my arms slip under his and I rest my cheek on his chest. One of his hands spreads between my shoulderblades and the other rubs my scalp like it used to when I scratched a knee or fought with Annie. He kisses my forehead and I think I can't possibly be more at home.

 

Anya claps her hands. I pull back a little, look up at dad and he answers my grin with one of his own. Unfortunately for her, Ann is at arm reach and at my wink dad grabs her arm and not so gently pulls her to us. She groans loudly and tries to fight back but she doesn't stand a chance and an instant later she is trapped between dad and me, her face in the crook of my neck.

I could've stayed like that for years but she's had the same 'I'm too big for hugs!' childish attitude since we were kids and still feels like letting it talk when she's embarrassed. Without warning she drags her tongue on my neck from my uncovered shoulder to my ear and I shudder in disgust.

I take a few steps back. Ew. Out of germaphobe animalistic reflex I pull up my t-shirt to rub at the soiled area. When I look up at her she is smirking, her hands on her hips and her chest puffed in pride.

I roll my eyes “You'll regret that.” she just huffs and takes a fighting stance, one I mirror.

“Girls.” dad steps between us, resting a hand on our heads “I said no wrestle in my house. If you have to break each other's nose, do it outside where I don't have to clean up.”

“Yes mister.”

“Plus,” he turns my head to the side “We have a guest who's mom would kill me if she knew I let you two give him the bad example.”

 

The boy I had entirely forgotten only rolls his eyes. My cheeks burn as I realise the childish behaviour I showed. I straighten my back and clear my throat before stepping forward.

“Hi, my name is Lexa.” I extend my hand “Sorry for what you saw but I hadn't seen my dad in years so...”

“I know.” he says and shakes my hand.

I huff “You know?”

He nods, confident “You're the woman of the photos.” Oh he must have seen the old family pics I the corridors. “You're aunt Lexa.”

Aunt? That's new. I look at my sister, raising an eyebrow. Did she adopt a kid when I was away?

She shakes her head *Ask him who he is before assuming crazy stuff dummie.*

The boy chuckle when Ann winks at him and I'm lost. “Who might you be little man?”

“My name is Aden. Aden Griffin. Nice to finally meet you.” he tells me with a large, way too familiar happy smile.

 

Something shatters inside in a deafening sound.

 

Now I'm home, back to the one I left.

 

Now that I look at him I can't belive I didn't recognize him. He looks like her so much... I feel a trembling smile stretch my lips as I see her in him at the same age, with her tomboyish style and short hair that she had cut herself, tired of having them long. I step closer and extend an arm to touch his head, those golden blond locks I told his mom he'd get when he'd grow up. She didn't want him to be a brunet.

He has her eyes too. Blue eyes like the sky in summer above the wheat fields. The kind of sky that amazes you and scares you. A sky so vast and infinite and full you feel all its pressure on you, menacing to crush you whole. And yet I spent hours just lying down wondering how long it'd take me to drown in this blue.

He has the nose of his father but her chin with its little cleft in the middle. I run my hand in his hair and uncover his ears. Small. The way we all ended up wishing they would be.

 

I can't believe how tall he is. Of course it's logical when I think about it, he was a toddler when I left. But to see him now, his head reaching my chest and his body already morphing into a man's, it's all surreal. I've never thought time travels possible but in this very moment it sounds believable. I turn around him and take it all in, all of him, all he is now and the pain is back.

 

I wasn't there to see him grow up. He was so important to me, I should have been. 

 

I barely register the ring of the doorbell nor Aden's disappearance as I feel myself slowly crumbling under the weight of my growing regrets. It'll be harder than I anticipated. Coming back. It'll be hard. So fucking hard.

 

“Mom!” I hear and my heart stops. I glance up from the ground to my sister and I can't read her face. Sympathetic, appologetic, encouraging and hundreds of other things. My dad on the other hand is standing still, his head held high, defying me to run away again. I promised myself I wouldn't. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

“Hi monster!” her voice is the same.

 

I can't do this.

 


	4. Chapter I : Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry for the late update but my amazing beta took some well deserved holidays and to be honest it was hard for me to write this chapter in a non Cliché way. Did it work? Did I fail? please please please pleaaaaase tell me :3
> 
> Talking about my beta, you should check her writings 'cause she's truly good http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene

 

For what I think is the fifth time this morning, I let my head fall on my desk with a loud noise.

"Clarke I swear to god one more sigh or thud and I'm ending your fight." Raven says, throwing her latex gloves in the dustbin. She takes off her goggles and put them on her desk before grabbing the collar of my blouse, pulling my dead-fish-looking face up to hers "Now, you either tell me what the heck happened for you to look like a zombie or you just go home because I don't need you in the lab if your brain is jelly."

I'm opening my mouth to answer that there is nothing worth saying but some kind of 'crunch' sound reaches our ears and we both turn to the exit where Octavia is leaning on the doorframe. Eating chips.

Raven releases my collar and puts a hand on her hip, running the other through her hair, in obvious desperation "Where the hell did you find the time to change and get yourself food?"

Octavia just shrugs and turns to me "Come on Griffin, spill it out. It's already noon and you've both wasted enough time. You know you'll tell us eventually so please."

I sigh and voice the words I repeated to myself all night "Lexa is back."

 

I often wondered what would happen if she reappeared. If out of nowhere she popped back into my life. I imagined scenarios, hundreds of them and prepared myself. I mentally trained to stay strong, to smile, speak clearly. In short, be the exact opposite of the puddle of goo I changed into the moment I saw her yesterday. I can't believe it still took me by surprise.

I close my eyes and breathe.

She was stunning of course. Maybe even more gorgeous than she had been in the green dress she wore for our eighteenth birthday. Her hands, they were shaking like when she confessed 'accidentally' throwing my lucky charm, my pair of red socks, in the washing machine when we were thirteen.

 

"Wait, what do you mean she's back? How do you know?"

"Yesterday when I went at Allan's to pick up Ethan, she was there."

"No way... You met her? What happened? What did you do? Did she say something?"

"Not much. Just something like 'Hi, I'm back'" I lie "And there was nothing to do. I said hi back, kissed Gustus and Anya goodbye and left with my son." I lie again.

 

There was desperation in her eyes, fear and I know those eyes. I've seen them before. When she left me standing alone at the church. Which is how I know. I know that she'll run away again. I know that her "I'm home." was empty. I know that when Anya pulled back from my arms and she had disappeared from the room, it was to never show up again. And it was a relief.

 

Octavia crumples her chips bag and asks "So how did it look like? A pre-teen talking to her crush for the first time?"

My eyes widen and my cheeks betray me. I'm too proud to admit it though "It wasn't like that please! I'm an adult." she bursts out laughing and if the heat in my face is anything to go by I'm probably bright red. "I know I'm not the most mature twenty five-"

"Thirty." Raven corrects me. I roll my eyes and turn to her.

"Okay, thirty, whatever, doesn't change much."

"Doesn,'t change much?" she smirks "Five years is not what I'd call a minor rejuvenating hun."

I raise my chin and cross my arms "You're just jealous that everyone asks me if I'm Aden's big sister."

She laughs again. She hasn't spoken yet but I already want to strangle her "Oh please babe, they're either trying to flatter you or get into your pants. Because sure those hips don't lie but wrinkles don't either."

Playing with my complexes is a very, very low blow. Imma murder her. She shows me her tongue and dashes out, in the corridor. I surge after her, almost throwing my chair to the ground. Right before I exit the room I catch a glimse of Octavia shaking her head. I smile.

 

 

* * *

 

It's 1pm when the school calls me. They tell me my son broke another kid's nose and that my presence is needed 'as soon as possible'. I should be worried, in a hurry but I'm just sad, disappointed, tired like when you realise that the pipe you fixed so many times is leaking again and you don't have the money to buy a new one. Suddenly I'm reminded of what Aden is. That something broke in him, that _I_ broke something in him, something I could only fix with money I don't have.

 

"Who was it?" Raven asks me when I return to the lab to retrieve my things.

"The school."

"Shit. It'd been a while."

"Yeah."

She rolls her eyes and punches my shoulder "Come on we've talked about this enough, it's not your fault and you know it."

 

I want to believe that she's right. As always I want to believe in something sweeter than truth but karma took that away from me in first year of high school. It's my fault if my son is like this. It's because I'm me, because I couldn't, can't give him what he needs.

 

I just nod and lie "I know."

I didn't notice but Octavia is next to me too. She places something in my hand and pats my shoulder, letting her hand there a few seconds before offering me a smile and returning to her sample tubes. I look at the cold metal in my palm. She didn't say the words but I hear them : take my car. How I found friends like those two, I have no idea. Why they stuck with me, I don't know either. What I'm sure of though is how much I owe them, how much I love them, how much I need them.

"Thank you." is all I say and it's enough.

 

 

The car is pure Octavia. It's gross. Not that Octavia is gross but she lives in what she eats. There are chips crumbs and greasy fingerprints everywhere. The amount of empty plastic bottles on the backseat is unbelievable and there is a smelly paper bag on the passenger's seat, one I don't dare to touch.

I'm not a fan of junk food but I can't repress my jealousy. How can she live on energy drinks, grease and salt and never take weight? And she doesn't do sport either!

I brace myself and sit down. A shiver runs down my spine when my fingers wrap around the wheel. I take my hands back to myself and look at my glistening palms. A wave of disgust courses through me and I consider going on foot. But no, I won't lose against a dirty car. I grab my purse and take out a baby wipe. My baby is turning thirteen in a week and doesn't need those anymore but when he was a toddler I discovered just how useful those could be in this germ filled world and never stopped using them.

I use the perfumed cloth over the wheel and fight the urge to clean the entire thing from floor to roof. Aden needs me, I remind myself.

 

I finally turn on the car and drive. The school is fourty minutes away, fourty minutes I spend in silence. I'm readying myself to face my son. I know by experience how scared and sorry he is. Aden is so sweet, guilt must be tearing him apart right now. My grip on the wheel tightens at the thought. My need to be by his side intensifies and soon I'm almost speeding. I'm chewing on my bottom lip realising just how bad this is. What if this school too decides that kids defending themselves are dangerous and they expell him? It's his third middle school already and the last one in the neighbourhood. I can't afford a private school or one in which he could feel better, one of those special schools for smarter kids I never thought I'd need one day. What if we have to move? No. I have to convince the principal that it won't happen again. I have to.

 

When I exit the car I fill myself with fake confidence, praying all the gods I know to grant my wish for once. The building is big but I know my way through those corridors and in a desert alley I find him. He's sitting on a small stool, his side and temple resting against the wall in front of the principal's office. This, all of this, the office's door, the wall, the chair, my son, all of this gives away that strong feeling of déjà-vu that makes me sick. And it's my fault.

 

It all started in primary school. His teacher called me at work just like today. I can still remember her words. "Miss Griffin, your son fought with another kid but he won't tell us anything." Well those weren't her words exactly but a mix of what I heard every time someone told me about Aden's acts of violence. That day another boy called Marc beat him up while his friends watched. It wasn't anything bad, just a few bruises and cuts but it scarred the both of us.

Because Aden was smarter some kind of wall rose between him and the others. He wasn't really bothered by it, preferring adults' company to the other kids'. He was good at ignoring bullying and I thought things were fine until that call. I never thought children would go as far as hitting him to get his attention. But they did. That day, Aden closed on himself even more and afterwards he started to snap back with violence every time some kid dared to approach him too closely.

At first I thought that it was because he had just moved in with me, changed school and envirronnement but I quickly understood that it came from deeper, farther back in time. It's my fault. He's always suffered from my mistakes. I didn't know how to deal with him at the time, how to raise a child I forgot was mine and he could feel it. And he would redirrect his anger for me on other kids or so that's what a psycologist told me. That's when Anya suggested martial arts. She proposed to teach him, said that it'd help getting rid of all this bottled up anger he had. And it did. For a while it worked and as Aden and I were spending more and more time together, as I was learning to know him and how to take care of him, things got better. He started to smile more freely and even made some friends.

But it didn't last. When he enterred middle school, bullying started again. He was the victim but unlike his opponents he knew how to fight. His fists and kicks never missed and while every hit were deserved, the bullies' parents were all that cliché kind of over protective, spoiling mommy and daddy that would threaten me with some "I'll sue you!" or "This won't stay unpunished!".

 

Now is like all the other times. And like all the other times I walk to him. Like all the other times he avoids my eyes.

I crouch in front of him and try to grasp his gaze "Are you ok?" He stays silent and rubs his nose with his fist "Aden talk to me."

"I'm sorry."

I stand "I know."

"I'm sorry."

Because now is like all the other times, I feel a knot in the back of my throat that I can't swallow.

I reach out for his head without thinking and start rubbing his ear "I know baby, I know."

"I didn't mean to." I know that too "But I warned him you know?" finally he looks up at me and in those blue eyes we share I see how angry he is at himself. "I told him I'd hurt him if he said more, I told him."

"You did your best, I'm proud of you."

His gaze falls back to his lap "But I promised. I promised you and I failed you."

I don't like it but like all the other times, when I hear my voice in his words, my tears break free.

"Oh Aden." my hands grab him by the shoulders and I pull him to me. Naturally he burries his face in my stomach, his arms wrapping around my middle, his fists clutching my shirt. I hold him close as he cries. My baby is turning thirteen in a week but it feels like he's three all over again. Except that this time it's not just a scratched knee and nobody's here to reassure me.

 

It lasts minutes and I hate that I have to ask but I need to know exactly what happened. When he's calmed down I fall on my knees in front of him and cup his face, trying to wipe the wetness off his face but only smearing it.

"You did your best. Now I need to know, what did he do?"

He sniffles loudly "The usual at first. It was just me as always but then he said you-"

He trails off and I understand that something's wrong. "What did he say Aden?" my tone is harsher but I need to know.

"That you're a- someone that pays men." Well that kid wouldn't be the first to call me a whore. I'm a single mom and quite young on top of it. I know people talk. "He said his mom saw you..." Being called names doesn't phase me but at this my heart stops dead in my chest. Someone saw me? And Aden knows?

"Do you believe him?" I ask and I've never feared an answer more in my entire life. I grab him by the arm, shake a little "Aden, do you believe him?"

"Of course not!"it's determined and offended. It's full of his love and admiration for me. He defended me and my honor, one I don't have.

I let out a deep breath of relief and my heart starts beating again. Shameful, suffering from hurting him, I answer "Thank you." I can't tell him the truth but I owe him that "Thank you." I see in his eyes that he doesn't fully understand and I'm grateful.

 

I'm about to hug him again when the principal's office's door opens behind me and Mr Bear greets me.

"Thanks for coming Miss Griffin." he throws an embarrassed look at my son "Would you mind if we talked in private?"

 _Yes I would_ , I think. "No of course not." I say, standing. "I'll be right back monster." I tell my son who smiles at the nickname. It's his favourite. And it's mine too.

 

I follow the man in his office, one I already know. The wooden furnitures, dark green carpet and curtains, the ugly, giant metallic cupboard holding the most important papers about this school and its students. He sits in his overly big deskchair. This man's name doesn't suit him at all. He's old, small, bony, and bald. If anything he reminds me of an anorexic rat, not a bear. He is nice though. And patient. He's been good with Aden the first time and has always kept an eye on him, made sure to punish his bullies when he could.

He motions for me to take a seat in front of him "Please Miss, don't make that face, I won't scold you." he laughs at his own joke and I crack a smile out of pure courtesy. He WILL scold me after all. I sit down and try to shake the stiffness off my shoulders, in vain.

He notices and sighs "Miss, I know the situation you're in. I know his efforts and that it wasn't his fault and I know how tough this is for the both of you but you're not the only data in this equation. Oscar, the kid Aden hit, is one of our most difficult students and if you ask me," he leans over his desk and whispers "he had it coming." he winks and I smile, genuinely this time. His seriousness comes back when he pursues "I think you know this already but this kid has parents, now angry parents and they aren't the first to have issues with your son in those past six months. I'm afraid I won't be able to tolerate any more of this Miss Griffin. Do you understand what it means?"

 

Of course I know what it means. The worst is happening. I gulp and just nod, not trusting my voice.

"You have one last chance. He's a good kid, brilliant. It would be a shame for this school and myself to lose him. But what I see is not what others see."

"I understand."

 

He keeps me trapped on this uncomfortable chair for long minutes before calling in for Aden. He scolds him as nicely as he can and my son visibly shrinks with each word thrown at him. When we finally get out of the office, we're both silent. We walk to the exit slowly. At some point I realise that he's taken my hand. To anchor himself or make sure I won't leave him, I'm not sure but it breaks my heart.

On the street outside I stop and take a deep breath. I look at the sky, blue and cloudless, a warm spring afternoon.

"Alright." I state "School's over for today." I turn to him with a smirk "Wanna buy ice cream and come work with mommy?" When his eyes lighten and shine I grin wider "Octavia said she misses your bone crushing hugs."

He chuckles mischievously "No she doesn't."

"You're right. I do miss her complaining though..."

He snorts and extends his hand "A cone with two scoops. Deal?"

I shake his hand "Deal."

 

 


	5. Chapter I : Anya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the name, the description and a few tags. I didn't want people to think that it is a love triangle because while I do have a trio, it is not the story of a love triangle. I think it's better this way. What do you think?

I breathe for what feels like the first time in two hours. I fall on my knees then lie down flat on my stomach and close my eyes. Again I regret following Ragan's advice. I wish I hadn't made the dumb decision of entering that fucking competition. God I should've stuck to martial art. Why the heck did I start kick boxing?

He walks to me and even though I don't see him I feel the confidence he pours in his every steps with each vibration of the tatami. I never understood how he could hit me with so much force and walk like he owned the place despite his small height and lanky body. Well, he does own the place though.

I open my eyes just in time to see him put his disgusting, overly large foot on my hip to roll me on my back as if I'm nothing more than a bag of sand. He towers over me and raises an eyebrow.

I make a face and sign *I'm quitting.*

*I thought you liked boxing?*

*I'm passionate but not suicidal and your training is killing me.*

*And yet you still breathe. Now stop whining and get up. It's 2pm and I'm hungry.*

At that he walks away without a look for the corpse he's leaving behind. I watch him until he exits the room reminding myself not to drool too much over his tight-fitting shorts that cannot be lying about what they're barely hiding. Obviously I fail and bite my lip as my mind goes wild and shows me delicious marvels of what could happen between he and I in another universe. One in which he wouldn't be gay. I mean he never confirmed it but that's the only explanation I've found to why my charm is ineffective.

 

Eventually I stand, my every muscle screaming in pain but my stomach eager to be filled and my disgusting skin to be washed. Sweat had dust and god knows what else stick to my exposed legs and belly like a second skin and it's so gross I would run to the showers if I had the strength.

When I reach the changing room after a walk I think lasted hours, I discard my drenched shorts and bra and bend down - not without pain - to retrieve my soap and shampoo. In a pavlovian reflex, at the sight of the tiny room, tiled from floor to ceiling my body relaxes, already feeling better. I press the holy button of the shower and after a slightly – or so I hope – alarming sound, warm water cascades all over me, soothing the suffering and exhaustion Ragan puts me through every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

 

I wonder if Lexa is up. If she ate.

Those thoughts I haven't had in years have me smiling. Guess I can't stop caring for her after all. That no matter how much have passed, how far she is, how old we are, I'll never stop looking after her.

 

I don't know how long I spent in the showers but when I exit the dojo Ragan is waiting for me in his ridiculously tiny car and if his glare is anything to go by, he's been there a while. I lock the door behind me and join him, his eyes following my every move. I hop in, or should I say, slip down into the only other seat of the can he calls car. I don't look at him because I know I made him wait and he's not happy about it.

He drives to our favourite place to eat, fifteen minutes away from the dojo. It's a little far but Luisa's meals are to kill for. When we enter The Blue Whale – named after Max, Luisa's son's favourite animal – we go straight to the bar where John, who probably saw us park the car, is already setting our table. Ragan greets the man. They shake hands, exchange some "How are you? The wife? The children?" and finally John turns to me. As usual he smiles that embarrassed smile and already I'm fighting back a mocking smirk. He signs a clumsy *Hi Roxane, how are you today?* and waits for my answer with expectant eyes. I do my best at hiding my amusement. Eight years that we've been eating here every day and his movements are still unsure and imprecise and it gets me every fucking time. Poor man is trying and failing miserably and the douche I am just wants to laugh. Seriously I should work on that.

After a moment I end his nervous awaiting *I'm good. How've you been boss?* I sign slowly to make sure he gets it and at his confused expression I can't hold back any longer. I laugh openly and can't stop. Next to me, Ragan is shaking his head, patting John's shoulder.

"You'll do better next time." my coach says with an understanding smile while John rolls his eyes, shrugs and turns back to occupy himself, pretending to clean an already shiny coffee machine.

 

We must have been loud I think, because Luisa gets out of the kitchen, her apron still on and some red sauce smeared on her face. She smiles when she sees us and as usual she walks around the bar to kiss me on both cheeks and punch coach's shoulder. She's ten years older and has known him since he was a boy, Ragan once told me.

*You look exhausted my dear...* she states, "Are you being too hard on her again?" she asks Ragan with another punch, one at which he winces.

He throws me a look and at the proud smirk I can't hide he huffs, "I want her to win and I'll do everything I can to get her on the podium."

 

I remember the first time I met Ragan. I was twenty seven, unemployed after quitting my dream job and throwing my life away, loosing it in bars and nightclubs. He found me half dressed in a dark alley and recognized the promising girl he'd once fought at a competition back in high school. He put me back on my feet, pushed my limits, gave me a job, a purpose, made me better and I owe him the world.

 

Luisa places her hands on her hips and scolds him "She can't bring back any medal if she's dead."

I poke her shoulder *Now that's vexing. You know I could kick ass even if all's left of me is a pile of bones.* I wink at Ragan who just smirks behind his cup of water.

She laughs *That you could.* And that's the moment my stomach chooses to growl, sending her into another fit of laughter. *Seems like your body is not ready to let you die just yet.* she pats my belly *Neither am I. Let's cook you something.* she smiles at me and leaves for her kitchen, my stomach growling once more and my mouth watering in anticipation.

 

We're half way through Luisa's delicious plate of carbonara when I remember my promise.

*You coming next week?*

*Saturday right?* I nod *I'll try. I have a check up at the hospital. One can never know long it'll take.*

I snort *Yeah. Hopefully they won't forget your appointment this time."

 

 

* * *

 

 

I type my text into the phone then knock on the door. I press play and the robotic voice reads "You drowned yet?"

Obviously I don't wait for an answer and enter the misty, overly hot bathroom made sauna. The air is heavy and damp and I haven't made two steps into the room when a cold droplet of water falls from the ceiling down my neck, making me shudder from head to toe. Jeez that girl is gonna ruin the walls, I swear...

I walk to the bathtub in which I find my little sister. Only her face and bent knees are daring to emerge from the once foaming water. Her hair is still, in suspension, spilling everywhere in the water, half covering her chest and for a moment she reminds me of a mermaid. A flat chested, rude, grumpy, allergic to seaweed mermaid but still. I sit on the edge of the rather large ceramic tub dad has made for himself when he bought the house.'Normal tubs are too small for me and I didn't want to pay fortunes to buy some kind of jacuzzi I will never use as such' he used to say every time mom asked him if he built it only for her children to fake drowning in this mini ocean. When Ethan entered my life, I too experienced the same fears and I realised just how much Lexa and I abused of mom's kindness and patience in the past.

 

I type and have the phone read it once more "This is bad for your aging skin, lil' sis."

She makes a face "The heck happened in my mind the day I coded this thing..."

"Your undying love for me?"

With the heels of her hands she rubs her eyes and with a resigned pout she asks "Won't you stop using this ugly voice at least?"

 

I don't know what 'ugly voice' means but I know that she hates it and that's enough for my lips to stretch into a smirk.

 

Notepad and pen. Those two have been following me everywhere since the moment dad gave me my first one along with sign language classes after a week of knowing me. A notepad that I still have somewhere, preciously secured in a box under my bed. I was satisfied with my notepads, liked them even because unlike sign language my handwriting is mine and mine only. But Alex thought differently. Alex always thought practical and useful. In her last year of high school she teamed up with her nerdy computer-obssessed clubmates on a school project. They created an app for phones made specifically to read the text one typed. It would be a funny app for some and a tool for others. She offered it to me and I threw it back to her face. I didn't need that, I didn't need a random robotic voice.

God I was such a dick.

In the end though I understood that she didn't want to hurt me but help me in her way. She apologized for hurting my feelings, had thought that "having a phone in hand instead of a notepad would look cooler and more common". I don't need common. I don't want common because I'm not and I will never be. I told her I liked my notead the way it was, no matter how heavy it weighed on me at some point in my life. But I wasn't everyone else. I was honest when I told them it was a good idea, one they should developp. Today this app can be downloaded for free on every single device, can speak 53 languages and the robots' voices, apparently, sound almost human.

 

Except the one I choose when I use the app. The very first, very artificial voice that very special high school app possessed. The only one I'll ever use.

 

"I'll stop if you look at me."

"I barely slept last night, my eyes are tired." she whines and I'm split between the urge to roll my eyes and the barely there hint of worry that tugs at my guts.

If she doesn't want to talk to me nor my app then I'll have to make her. I type some new words and I can't hold back my grin as I prepare my Oh so adult prank.

"Oh please! Please harder! Hm yeah Lexa! Fuck me harder. Ah!"

I have no concrete idea what I just said and at her lack of reaction I fear for a moment that I got it all wrong. But at some point, I see the corner of her lips curl upwards. I win. I watch her struggle, fighting back her laugh for excruciating seconds before she opens her eyes and finally lets it free. Quickly I follow her and soon we're both laughing like middle schooler first hearing about how babies are made for real.

I'm about to write some more mature rated crap again when Lexa, probably reading my intentions on my face, sits up in one move, grabs me by the hips and pulls me down. I fall in the water, clothes on my body and phone in hand. I gasp, squirm and defend myself of course, spilling water everywhere until she wraps her arms around my middle and drags me closer to her so that my back rests on her front.

I stop fighting then and try to turn back because obviously something is wrong but she just tightens her grip.

I already know what eats her inside so I don't push it. I extend my legs and relax, resting some of my weight on her. She pushes my hair aside and hides her face in my neck then nuzzles the back of my head. Against my skin I feel her lips and hot breath talking to me and I can hear her whisper.

 

In this very moment, after a nigh of questionning, I'm happy I stopped her from bying those damn plane tickets yesterday.

 

 

* * *

 

*Do I really have to go?*

I roll my eyes *He's our brother in case you've forgotten, of course you have to go.*

*But he doesn't want to speak to me.*

Sometimes I wish my little sister wasn't such a coward. Sometimes I wish she was different and wouldn't wait for me to make decisions for her. Sometimes I wish she would be able to find the strength to face reality. But after eight years so far away, A part of me is happy that she still needs me to hold her hand.

I smile, shaking my head at her faked pout *That's exactly why you have to go. You shouldn't give him more reasons to be mad at you.*

She stands from the couch she was starting to sink in and starts pacing *But why should _I_ take the first step? I mean, I've never closed myself to him, I called him every week without a fail for years.*

*Because you left.* my smile drops and she stops in her tracks. I know guilt is eating her. I promised myself not to be bitter, to follow dad's example. Being angry is a waste of energy. I'm done with it. And yet... I take a deep breath and try to fix it *Because he is too proud and will never back down on his own.*

"Then why should I?" she repeats defiantly, crossing her arms and this time I can't help but be mad. Mad at them both for being dumb.

 

I never knew if I was more mature or if it was just my big brother and little sister who were being childish. I can't count the number of times they fought and pouted for days, no one moving a finger to change the situation, always needing a mediator to realise how dumb they were being. Our parents words used to be "It lasted enough, hug each other now or no dessert tonight." A dessert, a candy, a toy, a video game, that's all their quarrels were worth.

But my brother's anger and my sister's fears are real this time. This time what Lexa broke was more than a robot dinosaur and Roan, while rightful in his anger, should know that the silence treatment will never work with our sister. This time they'll have to face it and talk it all out like adults and I'm afraid they won't be capable to.

 

*Because the only way to break that damn circle is for you two to talk and he won't so you have to be the smart one and try!* my annoyment surprises her and as she calms down, so do I. *Listen, if you don't do this for yourself like you should, do it for me.* The truth is I want my family back together. I want my sister to be back in our lives and be welcomed. I want her to be auntie Lexa. *Please.*

She looks down like a little girl and signs *Fine. I will try. But if it doesn't work then it won't be my fault.*

It's not as good as what I'd like to hear but that's all I'll get for now so I nod and head for the entry to grab my car keys.

 

I shouldn't have let her drive. Her grip on the wheel is iron, her knuckles white and striking. My poor car is screaming each time she changes gear and she jams on the brakes at every stop. When we reach the parking lot of the supermarket, I release a breath I think I must've held the whole time. But the fight is not over apparently. The erratic movements of my precious machine in a car filled parking is the worst thing I ever experienced. My hearts stops every time se turns the wheel and we almost bump into another vehicle.

Finally after a seemingly endless hunt for a spot, she finds one and parks. Or tries. Again. And again. And again. After the five longest minutes of my life, I poke her side and tell her to get out of my car. I take back my driver seat with more satisfaction and euphoria than I ever thought possible. Euphoria that changes into disgust when I see that my little sister's palms did a good job at polishing my wheel that is now glistening. I use only two fingers to turn the wheel and park in one final try. When I exit the vehicle she's digging a hole in the concrete, pacing back and forth, reminding me of a lion in cage.

I roll my eyes with a sigh and she notices.

*What?* she asks almost innocently, tapping her foot on the ground and giving me that incredulous look that always makes me want to slap her face.

I shake my head *You almost killed us a couple of times and I saw my life and my car's flash before my eyes.*

She rolls her eyes "You're exaggerating." I stare at her, holds eye contact and for a moment she fights me back but I'm better at this game and she gives up. "Ok I admit I was maybe a tiny bit tense."

I raise my eyebrows and try to express all the disbelief I feel in that instant *A tiny bit? You sure about that?*

She scratches an imaginary itch at the back of her head "Look, I'm sorry ok? I just- You know I'm bad at dealing with conflicts and-"

*Taking your responsibilities? Being an adult? Yes. I know. But it's not a reason to drive my car into a wall, even less with us inside!*

"But I didn't see it!"

*How can you not see a WALL!*

 

Our argument keeps going from an extremity of the large parking to the other and until we cross the road to finally reach Roan's hair salon. We stop a few feet away from the storefront, stay hidden behind the wall. I turn to her.

All colours have left her face. She's chewing on her bottom lip like crazy and I wouldn't be surprised if she bit herself at some point. I see her rub her palms on her jean to dry them and wish she had done that _before_ touching my whe-, no, anything that's mine.

I sigh *You're gonna do fine. Nobody's life is in danger and you have nothing to lose and everything to win.*

 

 


	6. Chapter I : Lexa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I know I'm late but I've restarted working on older fics and long story short, I have four stories in progress. So I decided that I would update every month starting now (or at least try and next month's update will probably be late because I'm going to see my best friend in Paris for 9 days). Anyway, know that I always do my best. 
> 
> This chapter is also the occasion for me to wish a happy birthday to my friend Lowiiie (http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lowiiie/pseuds/Lowiiie). Her stories are great, go read them and wish her a happy birthday for me ;)
> 
> As usual, I hope you'll love this chapter and remember that I crave your comments and kudos ;)

The storefront is different, it's the first thing I notice as we approach Roan's salon. It used to have an old wooden facade with large windows through which you could see him and his assistants work. Now the sixty year old wood is gone and replaced by plain bricks painted in blue. The thin curtains inside are closed and all I see from where I stand is shadows moving and innanimate things that I can barely tell apart. The sign too has changed. Where once was a large panel covered in golden letters saying “Wilde – Hairdresser since 1963” is a modern piece of metal on which “The Seahorse” is carved.

It is not ugly, rather aesthetic but my heart swells a little. I feel it inside, familiar and friendly. Regret is settling down where I promised myself it wouldn't go, not today, not now.

Next to me Anya stands still and strong and assured and she's right when in a sigh she signs *You're gonna do fine. Nobody's life is in danger and you have nothing to lose and everything to win.*

 

What could go wrong? It can't be worse at this point. Or so I tell myself in a vague attempt to calm my racing heart. I am scared I realise. I've been scared a lot in my life. Scared to walk, ride a bike, drive, be happy, be sad, leave and return. Now a fear that stayed dormant for years is waking up little by little, with each breath of american air I draw in, with each breath of home. And yet. Yet there is a joyful little light somewhere in all of this, a warm bubble of safety and happiness I wish to find with all my heart. I want to go back to my happy days and smile like I used to. I want a reality in which I don't speak french, drink too much cheap whisky and fuck random girls in bars' bathrooms.

I've missed Roan. I've missed his kisses on my forehead that only his and dad's lips can reach, our ping pong matches, my jokes about his hair, the blue of his eyes we don't share that reminds me of mom. I've missed his constant smirk, his bone crushing hugs when I less want them and his warm arm around my shoulders when I'd need a more present embrace. I've missed his punches, his snarky remarks, his rudeness and the tears he let loose only for truly important things.

 

Anya slaps the back of my head *Good god Lexa, show some balls and go.* I wince as a very graphic image settles in my mind and step away, my eyebrows furrowed in disgust. She just rolls her eyes *Come on you know what I meant.*

I shake my head *How vulgar. Mom would be ashamed.*

She laughs *Mom would kick both of our asses until we can't feel our buttcheeks anymore for all the dumb mistakes we made.*

I snort *She really would.*

She places a hand on my back and nods to the door *Let's not disappoint her further. It's not your first fight and it won't be your last. Adult the hell up* She winks and I can't hold back a bittersweet smile as my mind returns to this jewelry store ten years ago, when she helped me pick up a ring and told me everything would be fine. Or further back in time when I was scared to get up on stage and play Romeo in front of everyone. There was also this time I was so stressed to play THE baseball match of my life. The proposal, the play, the game everything went as planned. I decide to trust that wink again.

 

I step forward. This is it. I walk slowly along the storefront, now thankful to those curtains that offer me a few more seconds to prepare. In too few steps I reach the entry. The glass of the door is translucent and through it I can see. Already my eyes search for him, for his dark braided hair that had me call him princess so often when I was small. For the wonderful boy I admired so much but never dared to call my prince out loud.

When I find him, a weight lifts off my chest.

 

He's wearing a white shirt with a red flower pattern, its sleeves rolled up right below his elbows. His tight-fitting pants are a bright reddish pink and his shoes are way too pointy to be pretty on anyone else. Just like the rest. This combinaison shouldn't work but somehow it does. Maybe it's the comb and scissors in his working hands that do the trick.

And his hair is a gorgeous long black braid that reaches his lower back.

He hasn't changed. The salon did but he's still there in his weird clothes that suit him too well to be true. Suddenly all fears have vanished entirely and I wonder why I was scared in the first place. Roan is my brother. We've known each other for twenty eight years including fifteen spent under the same roof. We know each other like the back of our hands, we love each other, there's not way it can go wrong. No matter what others said when we were young, we are siblings and nothing can break that. Or so I tell myself, force myself to believe.

 

Almost confident, I push the door open. The little bell at its top left corner rings and I hear him.

“I'm sorry, one moment please.”

That voice almost brings tears to my eyes as I realise how I've missed it. I gulp down my happiness so that I don't sound too happy when I answer “I've waited years, what's a moment?”

His hands stop working, freezing in the air, the old lady on the seat looking up at him in the mirror awkwardly. I think he's just surprised but when he turns, glaring daggers at me, I know something is wrong.

 

Anya's wink is a sign, I should've remembered. Because back then my team lost the game, I broke a leg after the play and my wedding... was a twisted joke of fate.

 

 

* * *

 

Unlike yesterday, I barely slept. The emotionally draining plane travel wasn't there to gently knock me out. Instead, jet lag is kicking in, fucking up my perfect sleeping schedule and leaving me alone with my thoughts. Again. Yeah I really hate planes.

As I shift in my bed for the umpteenth time, my bladder reminds me of its existence and I get up. The sun is barely rising so the house is still dark but I do not need light to find my way. I open the door of my room and turn left. I pass by Anya's room that once was mom's office, I get down the stairs, turn right and face dad's room. I turn left again, cross the living room and finally turn right. Under the old WC sign Anya and I painted when we were ten, there is a new one. Aden's, Ann told me. The drawings on the walls are his too and I remember pinning the “Rainbow gorilla” myself. My chest is heavier at the thought of him and I shake my head. I promised not to go there.

I open the door, do what I have to then get out. I go back to my room and let myself crumble on my bed, face on the pillow. When I can't hold my breath any longer, I slip under the covers, then roll on my side and close my eyes. A minute later I open them again as I review yesterday's events once more.

 

I can't believe Roan stayed silent. That I begged him, asked him to forgive me, apologized, shed a tear. That he humiliated me in front of the entire salon and chased me away with a “Anya, could you please take her out, she's a bother to my clients”. I'm so glad I slammed the door and broke the handle. I vaguely heard Anya call him a moron before she ran after me.

In the car we didn't speak. I think that's because there was nothing to say. I tried. I made the first step, took the effort to do so and he threw it back to my face. That's what happened and there was nothing to discuss.

At dinner dad told me about today, that he'd show me my new office. This reminds me that I need to call Laurie. Damn I forgot to tell her I arrived.

I try to think about work. About what will change, about all the things I'll have to do later today, all the formalities, but I'm done in a matter of minutes. I already planned all of this hundreds of times on the plane after all.

 

Fuck how dared he? After I embarrassed myself in front of everyone, _begged_ him? He could have at least listened to me, or even just have the decency to address me and not Anya. Of course I didn't expect him to welcome me with open arms but... I thought he would talk. I wish he had. I wish he had led me in the back of the salon and yelled at me, made me cry. I wish he had been the boy I always knew and scolded me.

I wonder if he'll forgive me one day. I don't even know why he's so angry. I mean, I left but called him the moment I landed! It's not like it was a big deal! Dad was mad too but he didn't stop to talk to me. Sure he said he'd never fly to France and that if I wanted to see him, I had to come back but at least he called me regularly, on phone or skype and not only regarding business matters.

Anya understood. She always understands me, always. She understood why I had to leave and she spent the first two months with me in France. I asked her to stay but she loved her job too much, she said. I've missed her. Every day I spent away I missed them all so much... I missed Anya, dad, Roan, Niylah, even Octavia and Raven, of course Mr and Mrs Griffin, and-

 

My heart skips a beat at the thought of her, of them. I wonder if Clarke will ever be able to pardon me. I tried not to think about our meeting two days ago but I've been failing miserably. Again the scene replays in my mind, her confusion first then that courtesy smile she offered me, one I saw her give to everyone, even her mother but never to me. It seems it was just an instant. That she entered the house, greeted me, shook my hand and then she was gone with Aden, leaving me behind.

She has changed. Aden too was so big... Maybe eight years is an eternity after all.

 

Then my mind goes to darker places. To what happened, why I left and that Clarke was stunning and beautiful and her hand was soft and warm in mine.

 

I jump out of bed and run. I take left, the stairs, then right. I step in the tub and open the tap. Burning water drip down my face. It hurts but it's ok. I plug the tub and wait for fuming water to fill it.

Like yesterday morning, I need Chris out of my head, of my life. I think I still have the plane company's website address in my history.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When I look at the building dad owns, I can't believe he once started as a french teacher in a new born american wine company. I know he bought the place six years ago and I had seen pictures but it is definitely more impressive in real life. Twenty five floors behind walls made of glass. Definitely something.

As we stand at his empire's feet, I elbow him “So success stories do happen after all.”

He smiles proudly “Not without work and efforts honey. That's my recipe.” he winks “Come on in, I'll show you where you'll work.” he enters the building and I follow, more amazed with every step I take.

Of course my office in Paris was on floor thirty of a sky scraper, but I was never there. I preferred my tiny building in Bordeaux that my colleagues and I called our basementwe, one we were just renting. But dad _owns_ this place. It's his from floor to roof and my chest swells with pride.

 

Inside, he greets the security agents, the hostesses, and as we exit the elevator and walk through the corridors, he shakes hands of colleagues and subbordinates alike. He knows them all by names and is probably friend with everyone too. Of course when dad introduces me as his daughter, they smile and tell me how much they've heard of me, how it's an honor to meet me and every time I blush, embarrassed but happy like when I was a kid at one of those galas Anya and I pretended to hate. I know a few people that I worked with from a distance though and it is nice to exchange words with human beings instead of computer screens.

 

Dad leads me to a door that unlike the others is made of gorgeous black wood. I frown at him. He laughs and pats my shoulder “See it as a 'Welcome home' gift!”

I can't help my excitement. I want to see what's behind the door and my heart beats fast. I step closer and extand an arm but then something's wrong, holds me back. My hand is on the handle but I can't turn and push. I frown and try again but my hand shakes and the metal burns my palm. Now I want to step back but I can't either. I'm stuck there and I feel it coming back, my anxiety. My breath quickens, chest heaves and I close my eyes.

I think about that golden field under the blue summer sky I ran through one day then every summer for eighteen years. I do what dad taught me to, I breathe and recall. The birds, the grasshopper, the fishes in the current, the ladybug on her cheek, Auntie's cake, and that sky so blue.

Slowly I relax and I hear mom's words from a far, far away land I thought forgotten “It's okay, I won't lock you in.” she says and I open the door.

 

The office is bright but the curtains make the light warm and soft. The desk is massive, in a dark wood like the rest of the furnitures. The two fauteuils from each side of a round coffee table are made of black leather, much like the desk chair. The entire room reeks money and power and for a moment it makes me uncomfortable. But as I walk in, as my fingers trace wooden edges and my nose fills with the smell of brand new leather, I admit it to myself : I love it. All of it. Every single piece of furniture is beautiful, denying that would be a crime. Yes, no need to feel guilty about loving beautiful things after all. I love them and they just happen to be expensive, that's all.

 

“You know, you don't need an excuse to love something. If you love it, you love it that's all.” dad says and I'm baffled.

“How do you know?” I ask and my face must express my utter shock because he burst out laughing. I watch him laugh then cough, laugh again and wipe his eyes with an embarrassed blush on my cheeks. Was I thinking out loud again?

Catching his breath he answers “Oh honey, it was literally showing on your face. You were frowning angrily at this armchair then made love to it with your eyes before biting your guilty smiling lips. If that's not talking for itself I don't know what does.”

My cheeks burn, no combust and I surge forward pushing him on the chest. “Dad, out.” I say and playfully he lets me force him out of the room. I close the door after him and lean my back on it. I take a second to breathe and calm down but I know I'm forgetting something.

I reopen the door to fing my dad calmly standing in front of it with his arms crossed on his chest, one of his eyebrows nicely scolding me. I smile sheepishly and grab his shoulders for leverage. I tiptoe to kiss his cheek, whisper a “Thank you daddy.” and lock myself in that new office of mine I already am in love with.

 

After an hour of discovering everything, unpacking my boxes of files and work material, falling asleep – in one of those fauteuils I think I will marry eventually, of thinking about which plants I'll decorate the room with and being amazed at how well my dad knows me, I let myself fall into that comfy deskchair and sigh with a smile. Best. Present. Ever.

I have a tender thought for my very first "office" in dad's old company. A tiny booth in a too loud and crowded space I complained a lot about but still loved. This room will be lonelier for sure. But I'm here to work after all and dad's office is two doors away so it's not that bad.

I pay better attention to the desk blotter and notice the corner of a post it peering out from under it. I pull it free and read : _3_ _rd_ _drawer on the right_. I follow the indication and open the drawer. Or try to. After a few unsuccessful tries I notice the lock and hit myself on the forehead for being so dumb. I take out my keys, unlock it and magic! It works.

Inside there is a bottle of expensive Laphroaig. I frown wearily at the item until I read the post it on its front : _NOW you have the complete panoply of the big boss. Ps- It's apple juice but shhh._

I smile and shake my head at my dad's sense of humor. Or prank I can't tell. I close the drawer and brace myself. Technically I'm supposed to start working on Monday so for now I have only one task and God how I wish it was about work.

 

I take the phone on my desk and dial the number. As the expected 'beeps' echoe I'm praying for her not to answer, wish to leave a message and get away with that but of course after long seconds I hear “Allo?”

I gulp and close my eyes “Laurie? C'est Lexa.”

For a moment there's nothing. Utter, complete silence, heavy and meaningful. And then it's a tsunami of words I wish I didn't learn to understand.

“Deux jours. DEUX JOURS que tu aurais du m'appeler!”

Because I'm an idiot, in a small voice I correct “Technically it's one da-”

“Oh je finirai pas cette phrase si j'étais toi.” she warns and my blood turns cold.

“Pardon.”

“As-tu la moindre idée, LA MOINDRE IDEE du souci que je me suis fait? J'ai tout imaginé moi, tout! Accident, enlèvement, attentat, heureusement que ton père m'a laisser un message parce que j'étais à deux doigts d'appeler les flics.”

“Laurie I'm-”

“Don't 'Laurie' me! Je me suis fait un sang d'encre et pourquoi? Parce que Mademoiselle Wilde n'a pas daigné donner signe de vie!”

And my ex secretary goes on and on about how I am a miserable human being for ten minutes, yelling in my ears names and insults I deserve. I should've texted her. Eventually our conversation goes back to work, my new schedule, responsibilities and of course my very important, very unavoidable balanced diet. I say amen to everything, agrees to eat at regular hours, say everything I have to to reassure her and once she's nothing left to say she shuts down.

“Laurie?”

“Yeah sorry. I gotta go now. Don't be a stranger.” and just like that she hangs up.

I smile as I put the phone back on its base. “I won't.” I promise her and myself. I'll miss her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At six pm as I prepare to go home, Anya texts me :

_Just realised I wouldn't have the time to bake a cake for tonight could you buy one? For eight people at least. Whatever you want but no strawberries, Aden is allergic._

Aden? A cake for eight?

 _Wait who is coming tonight?_ I text back _._

A second later I receive :

_Well I told you, it's family dinner. There's us, Roan, Niylah and Selina plus Clarke and Aden as always._

I read and reread the text but every time the message is the same, Clarke and Roan will have dinner in the same room, at the same table as me. I try to imagine, picture it and soon my fears are back, my stress, everything. My heart thumps in my chest as images of what I've lost flash into my mind.

With sweaty hands I type :

_Ann, I can't._

But her answer is one I can't fight :

_He is your brother, Selina is your niece, and you watched Clarke give birth to Aden, you can't avoid them Lexa. They're home and you're back now so don't be an ass and take your responsibilities._

_Ps : If you're not back in half an hour with a cake I won't forgive you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so how was it? 
> 
> Thanks for reading guys, lovya all


	7. Chapter II : Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I know this chapter is short and so willbe the next ones and it'll be a bit frustrating but I will be able to update maybe once a week (at least for the next two chapters - the next one being published next monday). 
> 
> There's not a lot of story in this chapter but I still hope you <3
> 
> lovya all and see you next week!

I put my lab coat back in my locker and retrieve my bag and jacket. When I turn around, Raven is leaning on the doorframe of the changing room, her arms crossed and a smirk I am weary of on her lips. I approach, raising an eyebrow and I stop in my tracks when she changes position, extending a leg to block the exit. I have a bad feeling about this.

Grinning wider, her eyes wander over my body and when she's finished with whatever she is doing she finally asks "Okay so what are you wearing?"

Confused I frown "Same clothes as five minutes ago minus the coat?"

She rolls her eyes as if I'd just claimed the sun is a planet "You know what I'm talking about dummy. Tonight, what are you wearing tonight?"

It is my turn to roll my eyes as I finally understand where this is going. I smile and shake my head "It's family dinner, Raven." I step over her leg "I don't dress up for family dinner." and look at my watch. I don't have time to play Rae's game.

"And you don't check the hour every ten minutes for family dinner either."

I turn to face her "I didn't do that." I argue firmly.

"Oh yes you did. All day."

I huff "I don't have time for this. I know what you're trying to insinuate-"

"Oh I'm not trying" she cuts me "That's exactly what I'm doing. You on another hand, are trying and failing at lying."

I open my mouth to talk back, prove her wrong but I change my mind. My jaw locks and without a word I start walking down the pristine corridors. Of course I hear her snort and follow me. Why is the exit of this damn maze so far?

"Also you’ve got time.”

Glaring at her I growl "Stop this."

"Stop what? All I'm trying to say is that you never leave the lab before six and half and it's-" she looks at her watch overdramatically "Six minus two."

Raven is really starting to annoy me. Not the usual Raven annoyance though, a true, dark kind that I'm not sure I am able to hold back. Of course I know why she's so unnerving but I'd rather die than admit it.

"I haven't showered in three days, I could use a few minutes to prepare." worst thing about that excuse? It's the truth and a slight blush heats my cheeks at the confession.

"Come on Clarke we both know Gustus and Anya have seen the worst of you already."

I stop abruptly. She bumps into me then steps back as I turn around. I don't need her to remind me of my mistakes, to use my guilt against me and to obtain what? A ridiculous admission of something obvious that I don't want to tell.

She's smiling at me, mischievous and I know she'll push it further, further where I don't want her to go. Glaring at her I bite out "You're right." My tone is sharp and immediately, I see that she gets that I'm upset "Tonight is special and yes I am nervous." her smile drops and I read in her eyes that she's sorry but somehow I can't stop my words "And yes! It's about Lexa!" and my voice trembles and my grip on my coat tightens "Because- 'cause-" I stutter "Because she's back and it's family dinner and she'll be there and it fucking frightens me!"

 

For a moment I'm deaf and the world blurs. Why did she have to come back? Why would she come back when she so eagerly left me? How dares she reappear and- No. Those feelings are behind me. It's Raven's fault, she pissed me off. I'm just confused because I didn't expect her to be there at dinner that's all. That's all. I take a deep breath and exhale my anger. I don't need that in my life, I'm done with it.

The next thing I register is Raven's arms around my neck. "I'm sorry." she whispers "I went too far, I shouldn't have, I'm sorry."

I know she is. And I am too. I relax in her embrace, breathe in the ginger scent of her shampoo and pat her back with my free hand. We stay like that for a moment until she finally pulls back.

A soft smile on her face she asks "You gonna be ok? Gustus wouldn't mind you skipping a dinner or two you know?"

I sigh "It's not a dinner Rae it's family dinner."

She rolls her eyes "And she is family, I know." she places both of her hands on my shoulders and squints her eyes.

I frown and I can't help but smile at her funny face "What?"

"Remember when we went shopping two weeks ago?"

"Um, Yeah?"

She closes her eyes, steps back, holds her chin with two fingers, nods twice and states "Blue dress."

My brows shot up "Wait what?"

"The blue dress we bought the other day, that's what you're wearing tonight." My jaw falls in shock. She sticks out her tongue before turning back, dashing away screaming "You'll thank me Griffin!"

She's long gone when my brain finally processes what just happened.

"I can't believe it!" I yell.

 

That girl is dead.

  
  


 


	8. Chapter II : Anya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry christmas everyooooone!

I'm putting the cake in the fridge when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I take it out and the notification says :

_Dumb sibling two :_

_Bell rings_

I roll my eyes at my brother's antics. He really has the worst jokes. I leave the kitchen, cross the living room, place myself right in front of the door and straighten my back, prepare myself. He was a dick yesterday, I have to scold him. I put on my most severe slash disappointed slash 'so done with your shit' mask and open the door.

He dares to show a smile and I read a cramped 'Hey' on his lips and I think it's the dumbest thing he's ever said. Yesterday put aside.

I raise an eyebrow and his fake smile falls. *Nice try.* I sign and turn my back on him, return to the kitchen.

I don't need to look back to know he's following me. His steps are heavy and he's the only one I know who drags his feet that way. I remember the year dad had to change his pair of slippers once a month and his shoes four times, it was crazy.

I open the first drawer and take out eight plates, all different. Turning around I almost bump into my useless brother. He's too big for our small kitchen so with a glare and a nod of my head I order him to get out of my way. He precedes me into the living room and opts for standing awkwardly in a corner. I roll my eyes. Useless.

When I come back with the cutlery, he's setting the table. I gasp and slap his butt with my free hand. He jumps, almost dropping our last red plate.

“What now?” he asks and I shake my head.

I put the forks and knives next to the pile of plates and sign *Lexa's job.*

For a moment he frowns hard, looking at me like I'd just stole the remote without reason but eventually his eyes widen in understanding. Immediately he starts to put the plates back onto the pile and I nod. Maybe everything is not completely lost between those two.

Done he turns to me “No tablecloth then?”

I smirk and pats his cheek *Good boy. Smart.* he rolls his eyes and I laugh. I expect him to fight back but he says nothing, his eyes lost somewhere on the parquet. I sigh. My siblings are hopeless. *What is it?*

*I'm sorry.*

*Not the one you should say that to, brother.*

He clenches his fists and for a moment I fear he's going to get mad but no. He relaxes and turns to grab napkins in the sideboard behind him. I'm impressed. He'll get his sauce supplement for good behavior.

While he's busy struggling to get the napkins out without unfolding them I send a quick text to dad. I type :

_Roan is here. What are you doing old man?_

And send. I shake my head. I still can't believe he forgot the tickets at his office. He had ONE thing to think about and he managed to screw it up. It seems I am the only sane, reasonable member of this family.

I look back at the table where now lays a messy pile of colorful pieces of cloth. I raise an eyebrow and gaze at Roan.

Somehow, he ignores my pointed look and asks *Where is she?*

*Bathroom.*

*How can you act like nothing happened?* I'm ready to fight him but his eyes find mine and and there I see more honesty than I have seen in a while when it comes to Lexa.

I sigh and voice the truth I wish he could accept *Because it happened. It's in the past and she is family.*

He looks down like a scolded puppy and I can't resist the urge to touch him. I pat his arm and hit myself for being unable to stay mean when he would need me to be.

Gazing up to me he asks *What do I do?*

I roll my eyes for what feels like the thousandth time since Lexa got back and punch his shoulder *Appologies could work I think.*

*Not between us Ann, and you know it.*

*Sorry for forgetting you two don't work like other normal human beings.* I humor but he is right. Words never worked between them. I shrug *Find a way to make it up to her.*

*How?*

I huff *I don't know. Won't do the work for you brother.*

“Mom would kn-” he starts then panicked, hurries to correct “Sorry, it escaped me, I didn't mean to-” I silence him with a finger on his lips. He still blames himself for an argument we had years ago I realise. But the sting of his words has faded now and my heart swells with affection, at how sweet and sensitive he is deep inside.

Smiling at him, I sign *It's ok. We're good.* He gives me puppy eyes again so I punch his belly. Hard. *I said we good.* I repeat and he nods his head, two hands on his stomach. I smirk *Good boy.*

“Brute.” I see him mumble and I'm about to punch him again when my phone makes itself known in my pocket again.

_Nylah :_

_Bell rings_

I face palm. Not her too...

*What is it?*

I show Roan my phone *Your wife. She's at the door.* He smiles at the screen and I click my tongue *Come on don't be proud of this! You're just contaminating her with your dumb humor!*

He turns around, winking at me “You just jealous.” Throwing my arms to the ceiling, I give up.

 

I am finishing to refold the napkins when tiny arms suddenly take hold of my leg.

 

 

 

 


	9. MERRY CHRISTMAS

I am baaaaaack! 

 

Because dear santa brought me a new laptop I can restart writing and publishing yeaaaaaaaah

 

I wanted to wish you all a merry christmas and thank you for your support.

 

this note will be deleted in 24 hours and the new chapter is the edited version of my previous note (chapter 8)

**Author's Note:**

> So how was it guys? I know it's barely a prologue but... Yeah it's a slowburn after all.


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